


Tattoos

by Reality_aborted



Series: if these walls [1]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: M/M, Troffy mentioned, Urban Magic Yogs, smornby, umy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:30:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reality_aborted/pseuds/Reality_aborted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Ross stepped forward slowly, eyes tracing the patterns. Smith threw the cigarette butt into the street below and stepped closer to Ross, covering the distance the gargoyle was to nervous to tread.<br/>“Here” Smith gently took his hand and placed Ross’s fingers on his chest.'</p><p>Ross discovers something new about Smith and tries to cope with his new life. UMY<br/>Based on an image by hott4trott on tumblr. Link in notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tattoos

**Author's Note:**

> this ended up longer then intended 
> 
> Based on this brilliant image http://hott4trott.tumblr.com/image/132785346554, once I saw it I knew I had to write something. Also it linked nicely with my plan to write something very Ross centric today.

At night the apartment was quiet and dark. The only light came through the curtain less windows, casting long geometric shapes across the small cluttered space. Amber car lights flickering off of discarded crumpled beer cans, a reclaimed couch intermittently lit by the flickering neon sign across the road, an old street light outside cast a blue glow stretching across the old scratched kitchen table. The faintest of dust motes visible in the artificial light, Ross held his hand out, watching the shadows he cast on the table. He hadn’t been away from the church for long at all and sitting in the dark in the strange room felt weird and unsettling. It had only been a few days since Ross had took the hand of a near stranger, the metallic taste of blood still on his lips, magic of the new bond sending a strange tingle through his body. He could still smell the lingering scent of smoke on his skin, ash no doubt still clung to the roots of his hair, the last remains of the destruction of his old life. Ross ran a hand through his hair marvelling at how soft it felt now. He shifted uneasily in his chair, strange clothes rubbing in uncomfortable ways. It was going to take some time for him to get used to wearing clothes at all. It didn't feel natural, his skin was hard and durable, he didn’t even feel the cold, Ross had protested, he had been fine without them for years. But the Kelpie, Smith he reminded himself, insisted that they were necessary if he didn’t want to get arrested for public indecency. Ross tugged at the hem of his shirt playing with an old piece of string that hung from an unravelling seam. His world felt off kilter.

The smell of cigarette smoke drifted in from somewhere. Ross looked around for the source realising that the door to the small balcony was open slightly. Through the misted glass of the door he could see the faintest glow of a cigarette and a shifting shadow leant against the wrought iron railing. The chair groaned under him as he stood up, the wood cracking under the strain. He had to remember to be more careful with furniture, he scolded himself, apparently modern furniture didn’t have the same durability that the pews in the church had. He followed the smell to the door and tentatively pushed it open, not wanting to startle whoever it was that was standing out there.

Smith was standing with his back to Ross, his elbows on the the railing, smoke floating around him, hanging in the still summer night air. The unnatural glow of the city lights and the faintest flicker of the cigarette hanging from his right hand made him seem almost ethereal. His shirt was gone in the heat and Ross could see the tension in his muscle as he moved to take a slow drag. His eyes traces the ridges of Smith’s spine, skimming the shadows of his shoulder blades. A car raced past them, a momentary flash on music and laughter drifting through the air. Its headlights briefly illuminated Smith entirely, causing him to swear under his breath holding an arm up to shield his eyes. Stepping silently closer Ross could make out a tapestry of colour and line wrapped around Smith’s left arm. Frowning at the strange colours and images. Without thinking Ross reached forward and ran a finger along the line of what looked like a rose vine, expecting the colour to smudge and rub off onto him. Smith jumped in surprise and whipped around kicking over a half drunk bottle of beer that was by his foot. Ross stumbled backwards hands held up defensively.  
“Fuck me, Ross, you scared the crap out of me.” Smith breathed out heavily, shaking his boot in an attempt to dry it off before it became a sticky mess. “In the future just say hi or something.” He laughed running a hand through his hair, cigarette hanging from his mouth.  
“Sorry” Ross said quietly, feeling guilty that he had scared his new and only friend.  
“It’s fine. No harm done.” He watched Ross curiously, tapping fag ash over the side of the balcony. “What were you doing anyway?”  
“Oh, errm” Ross shuffled his bare feet nervously “I was, well, you have paintings on your arm.”  
“Paintings?”  
“Those” he pointed at the colourful images that covered Smith’s arm and spilled onto his chest.  
“Tattoo’s Ross.” Smith laughed “You must've seen a tattoo before?  
“They’re beautiful.”  
Smith smiled at the compliment “You can have a closer look if you want?”  
Ross stepped forward slowly, eyes tracing the patterns. Smith threw the cigarette butt into the street below and stepped closer to Ross, covering the distance the gargoyle was to nervous to tread.  
“Here” Smith gently took his hand and placed Ross’s fingers on his chest. The cold of Ross’ fingers were a shock in the muggy heat that was currently stifling the City, but after the initial surprise his careful touch as he traced lines over his chest and shoulders were almost soothing.  
“What are they for?”  
“They’re art Ross, they don’t have to have reason” Smith closed his eyes as Ross traces the circle of a watch face on his chest.  
“So, they’re just decoration?”  
Smith smirked at Ross’s wistful tone, barely raised above a murmur. Smith sighed opening his eyes. “Some of them have meaning, I suppose.”  
“Which ones?” Ross looked at him imploringly with beautiful glass eyes, they’re colour dancing the line between human and breathtakingly unnatural.  
“Well, this one” he took Ross’ hand again and placed it on an anchor on his inner wrist just above his pulse point. The anchor was beautifully lined; a nautical rope with delicate blue and yellow flowers wrapped around the metal. It wasn’t the largest image Smith had on him but the level of detail was incredible. Ross traced the curl of the rope and he could feel Smiths pulse speed up slightly at his touch.  
“This one is Trott.”  
“Is?”  
“Represents. He told me it was a silly thing to get but since have i listened to him.” he laughed to himself “ Besides I wanted something I could look at and be reminded of...well, of him.” He paused for a moment watching Ross trace the petals of the flowers. “Sometimes, on bad nights, I get worried that I might lose myself in my own darkness. This helps me find my way back.” Smith’s voice had dropped to barely above a whisper. Curious, Ross looked up at Smith. Ever since he had met the Kelpie he had been loud and brash, full of manic charismatic energy. But in this moment he caught a glimpse of something else. The gentle, fond expression he had on his face as he gazed at the image made something stir inside Ross, a fuzzy warmth he had never really felt before.  
Clearing his throat Smith took Ross’ hand again and moved it to a grinning skull on his shoulder.  
“This one is for all the lives I've taken.”  
“hmmm” Ross traced the dark sockets of its eyes with the tips of his fingers, smiling when Smith squirmed.  
“Stop it, that fucking tickles.” he huffed, taking Ross’ hand.  
“You put my hand there” Ross protested with a grin.  
Shaking his head Smith placed their intertwined hand finally back on the watch on his chest, staring into Ross’ eyes. He could feel the pull of the newly made blood bond between them  
“This is time everlasting. Its constant procession. Never ending. Never stopping. A never ending stream of fleeting moment. Reminding me that there is no point in standing still.” Smith ran the back of his hand down the side of Ross face, running his thumb along his jaw. “If you want to do something, just fuckin’ do it.” He moved closer so Ross’ hand was pressed between them, the thud of Smith’s heartbeat under Ross’ fingers, and the warmth of a hand on his waist pulling him even closer still.  
“Smith” Ross said in a rush of breath. Smith’s hand was still on him, cupping his jaw and tilting it upwards slightly. Their noses brushed slightly and Ross could smell the smoke on Smith’s breath.  
“Can I kiss you Ross?” Smith murmured, eyes closed, enjoying the chill of Ross against him.  
“Please” Ross whispered back.  
Finally closing the distance between them, Smith pressed his lips to Ross’. They were softer than he expected and moved gloriously against his.  
Smith nipped at Ross bottom lip causing him to release a growl deep in his throat. His nails dug into Smith's skin making him gasp against him.  
“Ross” He moaned when Ross’ free hand gripped Smith’s hair, tugging at it gently so he could deepen the kiss.  
The intrusive beep of a car horn broke them apart and Ross stepped back quickly, Smith eyes wide at the loss of contact. He looked at Ross in confusion, the gargoyle was doing his best to look anywhere but at Smith.  
“I’m sorry Smith, I, I don’t know what I’m doing. This is, this…”  
“Perfectly natural?”  
“Too much.”  
“Ross, it’s okay.” Smith stepped forward to place a hand on Ross’ arm, but he just moved further away.  
Ross swallowed heavily “I need to think.”  
“okay” Smith said quietly concern etched on his face.  
Ross looked at smith, beautiful in the city lights, his hair in a magnificent state of disarray, his eyes lingering on the clock on his chest. Part of Ross wanted to reach out and take Smith back into his arms. It was overwhelming. He finally turning back towards the balcony doors pausing before he closed them behind himself.  
“Goodnight Smith.”  
The door clicked shut and Smith leant back against the railing, fishing out another cigarette tapping it on the crumpled box, listening to the distant sound of the front door closing.  
“‘night Ross”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was okay, normally I hand write everything first but had to skip that stage today.


End file.
